He Who Is Not Mine
by like a falling star
Summary: This is a Ron x Hermione fic told from the POV of a Ravenclaw girl who has a crush on Ron. A great ball of fluff. R/Hr, D/G...
1. 1

Author's Notes: This is a Ron x Hermione fic told from the POV of a Ravenclaw girl ["Clarke, Leia!"] who has a crush on Ron. In this fic the Ravenclaws won't be portrayed as nerds, but as one of those smart-without- trying types, as I've a bit of a soft spot for them. They remind me a lot of my class. A bit sad for the girl, actually, but the point is ultimately the R/H.  
  
  
  
He Who Is Not Mine By like a falling star  
  
  
  
I see him now, walking into the Great Hall with a bunch of his Griffindor friends. His soft red hair is falling messily into his blue, blue eyes, but it doesn't hide the gleam in them. He looks so beautiful, so comfortable, so relaxed; and I remind myself it's no wonder that I've fallen for him.  
  
Then I notice something amiss. Today, he isn't with that girl. What's her name. Hermione. Hermione Granger. That's right. She's the smartest witch in our year, but I don't like her very much. No, I don't like her at all, because he does. He seems to like her a lot. They're going out, and I've heard that it's serious. She's a bitch. Actually, to be completely fair ["fair Ravenclaw", says the Sorting Hat], she is rather nice. I've talked to her a couple of times, in the library. Granted, she is a good person, but she's going to steal him a way. I know it, and I can't let it happen. Thankfully, today she's nowhere to be seen.  
  
Instead, he is with a group of wizards. I recognize his friends-who wouldn't? The most popular guys in our year, they are. Harry Potter, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas. They're laughing and joking and pushing each other around.  
  
He's laughing as well, and he has the most amazing smile on his face.  
  
Swoon.  
  
"Leia? Are you listening?" My friend, Gretchen Sinclair, is waving her hands in front of my face. "Earth to Leia Clarke!" I can never get her American Muggle expressions.  
  
"Hmm. Yes?" I say, tearing my eyes away from the Griffindor table and fixing them on her, pretending to be completely absorbed in whatever she had been harping on about.  
  
She is not a bit convinced. "You weren't paying attention!" Gretchen huffs, annoyed. "This is important!"  
  
I roll my eyes. Important to Gretchen probably means another piece of mindless gossip.  
  
Cho Chang, another one of my good friends who is in the year above us, leans in towards us. "Not as important as him, huh, I bet?" she teases and gives me a conspirational wink.  
  
Without naming names, I know who she's referring to. I bite back the blush that threatens to fill my cheeks. "Shut up, Cho." I mutter. No need to further publicise my massive crush on him. Nearly everyone in Ravenclaw already knows. They've been teasing me about it for ages. Well. Since the beginning of the year, anyway.  
  
"Oh, sure." Cho rolls her eyes and takes a sip of pumpkin juice.  
  
Gretchen's eyes are glittering. "Ron Weasley, huh?" She locates him over with the Griffindors, giving him the Manhattan once-over. "Not a bad choice, Lei. Not a bad choice at all."  
  
I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. Actually, I can practically see her unrolling her Gossip parchment, sugarquill in hand. "Hmm. Ronald Weasley; second youngest of the Weasley family; with five older brothers and a sister. Sixth-Year; Griffindor captain and keeper; house prefect; ginger-haired, blue eyes, six feet tall, great body; Chudley Cannons fan; best subject: Defence Against the Dark Arts; worst subject: Potions; loves sugarquills, Chocolate Frogs and, sad to say, Hermione Granger." She recited, eyes closed in concentration.  
  
It was nothing I didn't already know, but still. I stared at her in complete and utter bafflement. I love Gretchen, really I do; she's like a sister to me, but sometimes I just don't get her. "Honestly, Gretchen, if you spend half as much time on schoolwork as you do memorising other people's vital statistics, you'd be getting all A's." I tell her, trying not to sound like I'm lecturing.  
  
She gives me an infuriating smile. "I already am."  
  
Honestly, I don't know how she does it, that girl.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
"Wake up, Leia." A voice calls. "Everyone's already up."  
  
I groan and pull the pillow over my ears, trying to block out the sound. "Go away, Padma." I say groggily to my good friend, Padma Patil.  
  
"Yeah, go away, Padma," Gretchen teases. "You're interrupting her dream with Ron."  
  
"Ooh." Padma bounces over. "Dreaming of Ron, are you? I should have known." She giggles. "He's grown up a lot since the summer. Very different from his Yule-Ball-days. I very nearly didn't recognise him."  
  
"Yeah, the muscles." Even without opening my eyes, I know that Gretchen is wiggling her eyebrows. She sits on my bed and pokes me in the ribs. "Reckon he's been working out?"  
  
A steamy image of Ron Weasley flexing his pecs, a knowing smile on his face, fills my mind. I pull the pillow over my face to hide my blush.  
  
Gretchen snorts. "You're such a pig." She complains.  
  
Padma pulls the pillow off and tosses it somewhere else.  
  
"Hey!" I protest.  
  
"C'mon, hon. Wake up. It's Tuesday." She reminds me.  
  
Tuesday. Tuesday. Oh! My mind snaps into focus.  
  
I live for Tuesdays. It's the day the sixth-year Griffindors and Ravenclaws have class together. Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. And with Ron.  
  
I sigh dreamily, and get up. "C'mon, you guys, hurry up." I say. "We don't want to be late for breakfast."  
  
  
  
* 


	2. 2

He Who Is Not Mine  
  
By like a falling star  
  
  
  
"Wake up, Leia." A voice calls. "Everyone's already up."  
  
I groan and pull the pillow over my ears, trying to block out the sound. "Go away, Padma." I say groggily to my good friend, Padma Patil.  
  
"Yeah, go away, Padma," Gretchen teases. "You're interrupting her dream with Ron."  
  
"Ooh." Padma bounces over. "Dreaming of Ron, are you? I should have known." She giggles. "He's grown up a lot since the summer. Very different from his Yule-Ball-days. I very nearly didn't recognise him."  
  
"Yeah, the muscles." Even without opening my eyes, I know that Gretchen is wiggling her eyebrows. She sits on my bed and pokes me in the ribs. "Reckon he's been working out?"  
  
A steamy image of Ron Weasley flexing his pecs, a knowing smile on his face, fills my mind. I pull the pillow over my face to hide my blush.  
  
Gretchen snorts. "You're such a pig." She complains.  
  
Padma pulls the pillow off and tosses it somewhere else.  
  
"Hey!" I protest.  
  
"C'mon, hon. Wake up. It's Tuesday." She reminds me.  
  
Tuesday. Tuesday. Oh! My mind snaps into focus.  
  
I live for Tuesdays. It's the day the sixth-year Griffindors and Ravenclaws have class together. Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. And with Ron.  
  
I sigh dreamily, and get up. "C'mon, you guys, hurry up." I say. "We don't want to be late for breakfast."  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
I sigh, and my friends glance over at me with a look of concern.  
  
It's the same every week.  
  
I know, my friends know it, but I don't care, and they don't know why I don't care.  
  
It's two minutes before Transfiguration, and most of the class have already gathered outside the classroom. It's a rule that no students are allowed in the greenhouse, the Potions classroom, the Transfiguration classroom and the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom before the teacher gets there.  
  
Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are snogging.  
  
It isn't very deep snogging, from what my friends tell me [I refused to look after the first few seconds] but they seem to be enjoying it very much. I try not to let it bother me, but the thought keeps struggling to surface- if they're acting so intimately outside a classroom where everyone can see, what do they do in private, where no one can see?  
  
I look up. They're still at it. So are Seamus Finnigan and Lavender Brown. Their friends are around them. The Griffindor gang. Harry and Dean and Parvati and the rest of them are smiling and smirking, making stupid remarks.  
  
"Get a room, won't you?"  
  
"You do this so often-are your mouths permanently glued together?"  
  
"Whose tongue was that?"  
  
It's enough to make a person sick. I bite my lip and look away.  
  
"Leia?" Padma says, very gently. She looks at Ron and Hermione for a moment, before nodding silently to Gretchen. "We need to talk."  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Transfiguration was terrible.  
  
They [you know who I mean] officially started going out sometime last week, though I suspect it's been much longer than that.  
  
It didn't used to be this bad, before they actually started dating. They would laugh together, they would quarrel with each other, and I would feel a twinge of jealousy at how close they were.  
  
It was worse today. It seemed that now they were officially a couple, things had changed. I had to endure the shy, lovey-dovey smiles they directed at one another and all their accidentally-on-purpose brushing of hands all through Transfiguration. It doesn't help that I sit right behind them. At the beginning of the year I was glad that I sat right behind Ron; I had a great view of his butt and it gave me a good opportunity to get to know him better. This morning, though, I wished I was anywhere but there.  
  
I plop down onto my bed. "So," I begin brightly. "Let's talk! What did you want to talk about?"  
  
Padma and Gretchen glance at one another, very fleetingly. "Leia. You know. what happened today. before Transfiguration." Padma begins, her voice hesitant.  
  
At the memory, I try to stop the flash of pain that crosses my face. I keep my voice nonchalant as I speak. "Yeah, I know."  
  
Gretchen is a little more straightforward. "Leia, you're our friend, and we refuse to see you get hurt like this." She swallows. "This isn't going to sound good, but you've got to get over Ron before it's too late." She says very earnestly.  
  
Padma nods. "Parvati's rather close to them, you know, and it seems that." She glances nervously at me for a moment, before stalwartly continuing. "Ron is very much in love with Hermione, as she is with him."  
  
The worst thing about it is, I know. I've seen the way Ron and the girl look at each other, and it's. heartbreaking, really. It's heartbreakingly sweet, and I wish that it was me he was looking at that way instead. Ron, with his goofy smile and witty quips.  
  
I can't help myself. I start crying.  
  
"Oh, Leia!" Gretchen puts an arm around me.  
  
Padma conjures up a mug of steaming hot milk tea and hands it to me. She seems to be unable to think of anything to say.  
  
Neither can I, actually. There really isn't anything to say.  
  
* 


	3. 3

He Who Is Not Mine  
  
By like a falling star  
  
  
  
The next day isn't much better. There I am, minding my own business, walking from Herbology to Potions with my friend, "Ackerly, Stewart!", when something comes right up and slaps me in the face.  
  
Not literally, of course.  
  
It's Ron and Hermione, walking down the hall. They're on their way to Charms. I know, because I've had Ron's timetable memorized. He has his arm around her waist, and she is smiling.  
  
Of course she is smiling. If the most gorgeous, perfect bloke in the world had his arm around my waist, I'd be smiling too.  
  
Unfortunately, his arm is around another girl's waist. Not mine. I'm definitely not smiling.  
  
I hear myself breathe in sharply.  
  
"Are you alright?" Stewart asks.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine." I look down. I don't want to see them. Not together. I can still see their legs though, walking in perfect harmony. I'm walking, too, but my knees are stiff and I know I must look a sight, like I'm acting against the Imperius Curse. We're walking towards one another now, walking, walking, nearly walking past.  
  
"Leia!"  
  
I nearly jump three feet into the air. "Her-Hermione! Hello. And. Ron." I say it like I've just barely recalled his name.  
  
He's looking at me, friendliness etched in his features. "Hello."  
  
Hermione's looking at Stewart and I in surprise. "Leia! Stewart! I had no idea that the two of you got together already!"  
  
I freeze. "Uh-what?"  
  
Hermione smiles. She obviously has no idea what's going on. "When did you get together?"  
  
Ryan blinks. "We're-we're not. that is. we aren't."  
  
"Together." I finish lamely. This is not happening. This is not happening in front of The Boy of My Dreams.  
  
"Oh! I'm sorry." Hermione looks genuinely apologetic. Ron is gazing at her, smiling. "I thought-I mean the two of you looked so."  
  
"It's alright." Stewart says. He seems to be blushing, though I can't really tell. He looks nice when he's blushing. I find it sweet when a guy blushes.  
  
Hermione gasps. "Oh! You know how the sixth and seventh year prefects [Author: I know, I said that they were in sixth year, but I've changed my mind. they're actually in the seventh year] are supposed to start patrolling the corridors in the evenings? Well, Professor McGonagall wants me to let you know that you're patrolling with Ginny Weasley this Friday. Is that alright?"  
  
I nod. Ginny Weasley. Ron's sister. Somehow, whatever I do, everything somehow manages to relate to Ron.  
  
"See you around," Stewart calls as we part. He smiles at me. "Nice girl, isn't she? Head Girl as well."  
  
I force a grin. Don't I know that. Why does it seem that everywhere I go, Hermione Granger seems to be forcing her way into my life and forcing me out of it?  
  
  
  
* 


	4. 4

Author's Note: I know I said that it'd be a three-or-four chapter ficlet, but I think I overestimated my summarizing skills. This is already the fourth chapter, and I doubt my fic will end here. Maybe another chapter or so to go. Meanwhile, though, please enjoy! Oh, and review, too. [Take into consideration the fact that I'm skipping studying for an all-important Chinese test that's to take place this Thursday just to present you this fic.]  
  
  
  
He Who Is Not Mine  
  
By like a falling star  
  
  
  
Yum. I love pumpkin juice. Especially when teamed with mounds and mounds of buttered roast potatoes, hot Shepard's pie, fried chicken thighs topped with thick brown gravy, rice puddings dribbling with sweet golden syrup and the sort.  
  
The house elves sure know how to make a girl happy.  
  
I set the glass back onto the table with a satisfied sigh, and, with an almost practiced casualness, automatically turn to watch the Griffindor table.  
  
Yes, there he is. Not The Boy-Who-Lived, but The Boy of My Dreams, he of the wonderfully red hair and dreamy blue eyes. I notice thankfully, with a smile, that Ron isn't feeding Hermione or anything horribly and disgustingly mushy like that.  
  
My smile falters as I realize that he's looking across the table, an adorably goofy look on his face. Need I elaborate that he's not looking at me, but at Hermione?  
  
I snatch my eyes away, and they slide effortlessly over to where another redhead sits. Ginny Weasley, to be exact.  
  
Though frankly her hair is more coppery auburn than red.  
  
I'm supposed to be having patrolling duty with her tonight. It's Friday, after all. I try to catch her eye, but fail, and it's then that I realize that Ginny doesn't seem to be paying attention at all.  
  
Not that there's anything to pay attention to, but she seems to be horribly distracted with something across the room. I follow her line for vision and gasp. Not something. Someone.  
  
Draco Malfoy. Oh Merlin.  
  
"Leia, are you alright?" Stewart asks, looking concerned, waving a hand in front of my face.  
  
"'Course I'm fine." I mumble, then make an effort to smile at him. The poor boy is just concerned. I really shouldn't snap at him.  
  
I tear my eyes away back to the Slytherin table, where Draco and his cronies sit. From the corner of my eye I see Ginny smile shyly. And then - to my utmost horror and shock and astonishment - Draco smiles back. I nearly fall out of my chair. It's not his signature smirk, nor anything suggestive or lecherous, nor the usual Malfoy-esque cold teeth-baring.  
  
It's a grin, and it's a damn gorgeous grin at that. Of course, Malfoy's cute. Anyone with half a brain can see that. But I prefer Ron, of course. He doesn't bite your head off if you try to speak to him.  
  
I suppress a secret smile. Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, eh? Who would've thought?  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
"Did you hear that?"  
  
"Hear what?"  
  
"That. Like.. that sound." A pause. "There's someone there."  
  
"You think so?" I don't hear anything.  
  
"I'd reckon, yeah. Wands out, just in case."  
  
I mentally run through the list of hexes and counter-curses that we've learnt so far in Defence Against the Dark Arts. No point in dying before I graduate. Not that it's going to help much, though, if it happens to be Voldemort or a Death Eater or something.  
  
But at least I'd be prepared.  
  
I fling open the door to the fourth-year Charms classroom, brandishing my wand.  
  
"Lumos!" Light spills out of Ginny's wand and someone squeals.  
  
I barely have time to make out two silhouettes before the light is switched on.  
  
It's a pair of very embarrassed-looking fourth-year Hufflepuffs.  
  
"Nox." Ginny's looking at them, a knowing smile lighting her features. She's rather pretty, I think. Well, would I expect anything less from someone related to Ron? "Helga Green, isn't it? And Donald Turnip?"  
  
The pair nod, reddening.  
  
She looks up, considering.  
  
And I know just what she's going to say. "We won't tell anyone that we caught you here, but you've got to promise not to do it again." I tell them. "It's dangerous to be out here at night. Do you have any idea how worried your friends might be, with you missing?"  
  
They look down sheepishly.  
  
"I don't want to catch you sneaking out again." Ginny says in a stern voice. She pauses. "Look. I know what you were doing. There's nothing to be ashamed of, really. Just don't take such a risk again. Is that alright?"  
  
Helga and Donald nod, and leave quickly.  
  
Ginny beams at me. "We make a great team, don't we?"  
  
I grin back at her. I was thinking exactly the same thing.  
  
  
  
* 


	5. 5

Author's Note: I know what you're thinking. In a mere couple of days, Ginny and Leia are going to become the best of friends, doing absolutely everything together because they understand each other better than anyone else ever have and this just fits right into the plot line because Ginny is Ron's little sister. Sound about right?

Well, I had been thinking about that but after reading this wonderful satire on clichés, I've decided that I should go original instead. So here I am, with the next [and second last] chapter up. Sorry for the long wait!

He Who is Not Mine

By like a falling star

"Stewart Ackerly…" 

"Millicent Bulstrode… I rather enjoyed reading about your theory on the Sacred Scripts of Scandinavia. Keep it up." Millicent flushes under Professor A's praise. I don't expect she gets much of it, then, though I know her to be a rather nice, albeit intimidating-looking girl, especially considering the fact that she's a Slytherin.

"Leia Clarke…" Professor Rinaldi avoids looking at me as she hands me my test paper. I hold my breath and shift my thumb slightly, uncovering my grade. An untidy red scrawl leaps up at me from the page. Aah… C+. Oh Merlin. C+. Oh no oh no oh no. And I had thought that my day couldn't get any worse. ****

"Vincent Crabbe… try harder next time." Professor Rinaldi gives the lumbering boy a reassuring smile, and says something encouraging, but I'm hardly paying attention.

Now, if you don't already know, I'm the sort of person who can't leave things lying. If I want something a certain way, then I have to have it that way, just for the sake of it. Some might say I'm a go-getter. Padma calls me a perfectionist. And Gretchen says I'm insane. Now how's that for nice, encouraging friends?

Oh dear. I'm having an absolutely rubbish day. 

Firstly, I woke up to realize that I'd just gotten the dreaded monthly Crimson Tide. Then at breakfast I overturned the jug of milk and dirtied my robes in the process. And in my hurry to change and get to Potions quickly I accidentally brought my Herbology guide instead of my Potions textbook [both have the same dark green cover; it's very misleading] and lost five points for Ravenclaw and had Snape picking on me for the rest of the lesson. And then at lunch I experienced such awful cramps that I had to leave, and when Stewart offered to walk me back I rejected his offer so hastily I think I may have hurt his feelings, plus I also realised that I _did_ need his help after all. Then as I was hobbling back to the Ravenclaw Tower I caught sight of Ron and Hermione walking hand in hand towards the Great Hall, and of course that upset me and completely ruined my day.

Well, then. And now this. Have I offended someone up there?

*

"My idiot brother is an absolute prat!" Ginny huffs as she stalks into the third-floor History of Magic classroom where we meet every Friday evening for our patrolling sessions. 

Instantly, my Ron-radar turns on full blast. "Your brother? You- you mean Ron?"

"Yes, I do mean Ronald Lancelot Weasley, Grade A interfering, overprotective git!" She sits on a desk and crosses one leg over the other. 

"Care to talk about it?" I ask, trying to be a good friend, even while storing away that little tidbit in my _Guide to Ron Weasley_. Note: Ron's middle name is Lancelot. How utterly romantic!

Ginny's brow creases, as if fighting an internal battle. "Well- not exactly."

Then I realize what this is all about. "Let me guess. It's Draco Malfoy, isn't it?"

Ginny gives a cry of surprise. "How do you know?"

I smile mysteriously at her. "I saw you."

Her eyes widen. "You _saw _us snogging in the greenhouse the other day?" She looks horrified. "I thought we were alone!"

I give an embarrassed cough. "Not- not _that_. I saw you looking at each other in the Great Hall."

Ginny wrinkles her nose, considering. "And you could tell? I'm impressed." 

"Shall we get going?" I suggest, cocking my head towards the corridor outside. "And would you like to tell me what happened?"

Ginny hops off the desk. "Right." Her mood is better, and she's blushing a little. "One day, after Bludger practice, Draco came up to me and said he'd been watching me. Neither Ron nor Harry were there, you see, because it was a Beaters-only practice. So I thought he'd been watching me practice, you see, but then he told me he'd been watching me _forever_. And I was thrilled, of course, as I thought he was the most gorgeous guy ever. Plus, you should just take a look at his butt when he's walking, not that you really should, but—" 

I clear my throat. "Uh- that was way too many details. What I meant was, what _just_ happened?" 

"Oh." Ginny's bad mood returns, and I suddenly regret bringing it up, even though it concerns The Boy of my Dreams. "Ron found out, and he had a cow. Tried to hex Draco, he did. Luckily I was there, and I gave him _such_ a telling off." She shakes her head. "Honestly, he's so short-tempered."

"But I'm sure he meant well." I try to defend Ron. 

"Are you taking his side now?" Ginny asks angrily, her eyes blazing. 

She's morphed into Scary Ginny. I'm not kidding. Don't be fooled by her looks. You really don't want a mad Ginny after you. She's really tiny, only about five feet tall, but then she's also a Beater for Gryffindor. Doesn't that tell you anything? "I meant that, considering he and Malfoy aren't on the best of terms, he probably doesn't have the best impression of Malfoy, and doesn't want you caught in the middle of anything that might happen." I say slowly, trying to phrase my words tactfully.

"Well, it's too bloody late for that." Ginny says bitterly. "I don't see why he can't understand, and why you're taking his… wait a minute…" She trails off. "Seventh year… Ravenclaw… dark hair…" Then she turns to me, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "It's you, isn't it?"

*


End file.
